


Speak Not

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-14
Updated: 2006-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: First in the Secrets and Bonds series. Following the events of "Home" Sam confronts Dean about his reluctance to talk about what happened in Lawrence. His refusal to speak about Lawrence as well as other secrets he's keeping may pull the brothers apart or draw them closer as they confront feelings neither of them have a name or explanation for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Speak Not - 1/3  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: Following the events of ‘Home’ Sam confronts Dean about his reluctance to talk about what happened in Lawrence. His refusal to speak about Lawrence as well as other secrets he’s keeping may pull the brothers apart or draw them closer as they confront feelings neither of them have a name or explanation for.   
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place after ‘Home’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic. As long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series which follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
***  
  
The house was humming with electricity, he had sensed it from the very beginning, but he’d convinced himself that it was the thought of being here, in this house again, where their mother had died. He should have done a million things different, but he hadn’t and now he found himself frozen, unable to move and watching as an electrical cord was slowly strangling his brother. Sam was reaching out to him, the tendons in his neck straining against the heavy black cord that tightened with each of Dean’s heartbeats.   
  
He cursed, he screamed, but it was all to no avail because if he were truthful God had abandoned both he and his family over twenty years ago. Why else would two innocent babies lose their mother? Or a loving husband and father lose his soulmate? The only possible answer was God had abandoned them, kicked them to the curb like so much trash, and then turned his back on their father’s prayers. Prayers that he would be granted vengeance against the black hearted demon that had torn Mary from them in an explosion of flame and blood.  
  
Dean’s eyes filled with tears as he fought to lift his arm and reach his baby brother. Sammy was the most important thing in his life and damned if he would die without the touch of his brother. Their fingertips brushed, just a faint whisper of flesh on flesh, but it was enough to finally force the tears to fall from both he and Sam’s eyes.  
  
Sam’s lips were turning blue now, his eyes red rimmed, star bursts of blood on the tear-slicked surface as capillaries burst. His lips worked, but there was no air left. Nothing left to form the words he so desperately sought to speak. His world was slowly becoming dark, shadows creeping in from the edges. At first nothing, but shades of grey and then the harsh darkness. He hadn’t wanted to leave. It was obvious in his expression, but sometimes we don’t get what we want.  
  
***  
  
A harsh exhalation of breath escaped his trembling lips as he sat up in the darkened hotel room, his chest tight, and the rhythm of his heart erratic with the image that lingered behind his eyelids. Rubbing at the knot of pain that was forming between his eyes, he tried to calm his breathing. He had no desire to wake his brother not after everything they’d been through in Lawrence.   
  
Lifting his hand he rubbed at his throat the ghostly reminder of a tightening electrical cord against his perspiration dampened skin. His hand dropped from his throat and he slipped from the bed creeping across the carpeted floor to the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind him. One trembling hand lifted to tug the chain on the light above the bathroom sink. In the harsh yellow glow of the bulb his face was too damn pale giving him the appearance of a corpse, the wide hazel-green eyes staring back at him were like the eyes of the stranger. They should have never gone back there, but they had and now everything had changed.  
  
Bile rose in his throat as he scurried to the toilet and the cheap fast food tacos they’d shared earlier made a second appearance in the stained porcelain bowl. He knelt there for what seemed an eternity listening for any sound from the other room and sighed in relief. The last thing he needed was for his brother to know he’d had a nightmare. After a moment he rose from the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet, and moved to the sink rinsing the taste of regurgitated salsa and meat from his mouth. A few seconds ticked by as he stared at the reflection in the mirror and then he tugged the chain letting the darkness close in around him.  
  
With a soft sigh he opened the bathroom door and crept silently back to his bed. Slipping beneath the threadbare sheets, he shifted to his side, and plumped up the pillow beneath his head, his eyes focused on his sleeping brother. As sleep began to descend gently over him, he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he wouldn’t have to explain the smudged shadows beneath his eyes in the morning after all, he thought, as he watched through blurry eyes his brother shifted beneath his covers across the room.   
  
“Sweet dreams, Sammy-boy…” Dean whispered.  
  
***  
  
Five Days Previous  
  
"Dean…Jesus Christ I want to talk about what happened. I want to talk about mom. We ‘saw’ her Dean! She was right there and she talked to us. She saved me. I mean doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you want to talk it out? You can't just want to lock it up with the rest of the shit you won't talk about Dean."   
  
Sam’s voice said it all; he was strung out on stress. This was the fifth time since leaving Lawrence he’d tried to talk about what happened in their old house, it was also the fifth time Dean had been an asshole about it all. Tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel Dean inhaled and wished that for once Sam would just let it go. He didn't want to think about Lawrence, mom, or anything that had happened in that house.   
  
"What is there to talk about?" He growled softly as the car idled at the stop sign and he carefully avoided Sam's gaze.   
  
Growling Sam sank deep into the leather seat of the Impala and glared out the window. "Fine be a heartless prick like dad. You already follow him blindly on everything else. You might as well be a dick like him, too."  
  
"Fuck!" Dean yelled, revving the engine and turning left onto the highway, his foot growing heavier with each second. "Is this what this shit is about?! God damn it Sam we don't have to analyze every little fucking thing!"   
  
Sam turned in the seat giving Dean an exasperated look. "No you just go all marine---stone cold and emotionless---like nothing affects you. You know what? I could probably die and you would just fucking shrug your shoulders and move on. All you care about is this car, sex, drinking, the hunt, and that thing that killed mom. That's ‘IT’ and that's just sad Dean."   
  
Yanking the steering wheel sharply to the right Dean pulled the car to the shoulder of the highway, gravel spewing with a shriek, and slammed on the brakes. Without a word he yanked the door open, got out of the car, and slammed it behind him. Turning he leaned on the window glaring at Sam eyes filled with fury and hissed. "You don't know shit!" Turning on his heel he started walking up the road, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.  
  
Snorting Sam threw open the passengers door and climbed out, his long legs stretching as he rose to his full height. "WHAT?" he yelled up the road. "Are you trying to tell me you have ‘feelings’? The great rock---Dean Winchester---can feel past his ‘DICK’ and his ‘JOB’? Oh, well…then I must have gotten my big bro’ completely wrong. I know you dude…I know you better than you think."  
  
Taking a deep breath Dean sped his stride up and tried to control the need to punch something. That something was dangerously close to being Sam's smug all-knowing mouth. What the fuck did he know? He'd been gone for almost four years and then he strolled in acting like he had one goddamn clue what he and dad had been through. Dean yanked one hand out of his jacket, flipped Sam the bird, and kept going.   
  
God he had a headache that just wouldn't go away. He'd had it since the moment he had looked into his mother's eyes for the first time since he'd been four years old.  
  
"YOU WISH YOU SICK ASSHOLE!!" Sam screamed after Dean, then deflated, leaning back against the car.   
  
What he’d said made no sense but he had to yell something at his brother. This made no sense. God it was their mom---their ‘mom’. Salty tears began forming in his eyes and he punched the car. He didn't do it hard enough to leave a dent but just enough to quell the knot forming in his stomach.   
  
Why wasn't their dad there? Why did he have to be in this fucked up excuse of a family? Why did his mom die? Why did Jess die? All those questions raged in his mind as the first tears fell. Why did he have to be stuck on the road with Dean---the good little solider? He just wanted it all to be done with.  
  
Freezing his tracks Dean had inhaled sharply at Sam's words. He took a few calming breaths and then said fuck it to himself. Sam wanted a fight then by God he was going to get one. Turning he glared at Sam.   
  
"What the fuck do you want from me?!" He headed back to the car his chest tightening and his head pounding. "Do you want me to say I wish dad were here?! Well I do! Do you want me to say that I miss mom? Cause that's a big 'YES'! Outside of that I don't know what else you want!"   
  
Sam scrubbed the tears away quickly, turning his head, and taking a few calming breathes. "I don't want anything from you Dean. Nothing." He jerked the door open and climbed back inside the car sorting himself out and back into a comfortable position. He turned himself as much as he could into the door his back to the driver’s side. He was done talking---for now.  
  
"Son of a bitch!" Dean roared and kicked the fender of the car. "You get your ass out of that car right now!" He stormed around the car, yanked the passenger side door open, and reached in grabbing a fistful of Sam's shirt, yanking him forward.   
  
Falling to his knees, Sam barely caught himself, and kept his face from meeting a road full of gravel. The rocks dug into his palms causing him to hiss as he pushed himself straight up towering over his brother. "What?! You want to get all fisticuffs with me man?! Really?!" Gravel still clung to his abraded palms, but he didn't feel it. He didn’t feel anything over the rage that bubbled up from a deep spot inside him like a stewing pot just waiting for an excuse to boil over.   
  
"You started this Sam!" Dean glared up at him with narrowed eyes. "You want to talk so damn much, then do it! Let's get all fucking 'Dr. Phil' on the side of some godforsaken highway in the middle of no where fucking Nebraska!"  
  
Sam's jaw tightened, the muscle twitching, as he pointed a finger stiffly towards his brother. "’That’ is what I'm fucking talking about Dean. Someone has feelings and you dog them. Because in your fucked up mind 'Feelings are just roadblocks on the way to killing some damned evil nasty demon Sammy. Let's blow shit up, burn things, and here shoot this gun it's BIG.'"  
  
"You son of a bitch!" Without a thought Dean drew back his fist and slammed it into Sam's jaw.   
  
Head bouncing back like a jack in the box Sam tasted blood inside his mouth---a metallic rush of hatred. He swallowed most of it down but a tiny trickle still managed to drip down the corner of his lip. He turned back to Dean, wiping it off, and pushed his hand out wiping the blood on Dean's jacket.   
  
"Blood of my blood. You fucking prick." Then his fist shot out with an uppercut catching Dean straight in the face.  
  
Stumbling backwards, Dean's head snapped back and then forward his chin hitting his chest. This was doing nothing for his headache, but it'd been a long time coming. He was so fucking tired of being treated like a freak by Sam, like he had no feelings, as if he were some inhuman thing.   
  
Lifting his head slowly, he smirked at Sam, blood dripping down his chin. "So you aren't as big of a pussy as I thought."  
  
Sam snorted shaking his hand out as he watched his brother. "Please Dean…we grew up with the same dad and had the same training. Just because I don't go all Rambo doesn't mean I can't defend myself."  
  
"That right?" Dean raised a brow, then dropped low kicking his foot out and sweeping Sam's feet from beneath him.  
  
Sam caught himself, his hips tilting up as he flipped back up into a crouch and rose to his feet. His own brow quirked at Dean in amusement. "Yeah…that's right. That all you got old guy?"  
  
Snorting Dean lifted himself into a half crouch and chuckled, shaking his head as pain flared in his temple, and waggled his fingers at Sam. "Come on...bring it on college boy."  
  
"You’re on your knees Dean that doesn't seem very fair. You might fall and not get up."  
  
"Fair?" Dean quirked a brow lifting up. "Since when did you ever play fair Sammy..." he drawled out the name knowing how much Sam hated it when he called him that. "You always were a cheating little bastard. Using those puppy eyes to get what you wanted." He snorted.  
  
"But I was never like you in a fight Dean. I'm not an honor less dick. I want you to be on your feet. That way when I knock you down on your ass I know I earned it. Plus you'll try shit." Sam wasn’t going to give in to the bait Dean was throwing out. He’d just let that name slide off him like water.  
  
Bouncing to his feet Dean swung hard and fast catching Sam on the chin hard. "Fucking analyze this bitch!"  
  
Sam dropped hard not expecting Dean to swing up so fast or hit quite so hard. He blinked a few times, seeing stars and he fumbled the first few times he tried to push himself back up. Coughing he murmured softly. "Someone’s touchy. Does he need his bottle?"  
  
By now, Dean had truly and completely had enough. It was like he stepped outside his body and he swung his foot catching Sam in the ribs. "Fuck off!"  
  
Grunting and hissing Sam fell flat, curling up in a fetal position to protect everything that hurt. He couldn't stop talking though and he couldn't stop saying all those hateful things. Even if he knew he was going to get the beating of his life, he just couldn’t stop. "See that's the thing Dean." Sam coughed rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth wiping away the spit and blood. "I keep trying to fucking leave, but you keep making me stay."  
  
Dean snorted, glaring down at Sam. "That how you feel? Cause your sorry..." Dean stopped a frown creasing his brow, "...your sorry ass...can...just..." he hissed and fell to his knees clutching his head, his eyes clenched tight. Fucking hell, he thought, it felt like Sam had hit him in the head with a sledgehammer.   
  
Frowning Sam glanced at Dean from the ground and forced himself to sit up, ignoring the angry flares of pain. "Dean?" His frown deepened when Dean didn’t respond. He reached out poking him lightly with a finger. "Dean knock this shit off. I don't feel sorry for you if I wailed on you too hard---suck it up dude."  
  
Grinding his teeth Dean swallowed hard and looked up at Sam, his eyes watering. "You wish..." Dean grunted as the pain slowly began to subside to a dull roar. "Got a fucking headache...had it since Lawrence. Ain't no wonder with you and your whining."  
  
"Oh, fuck you Dean. I wasn't whining. You’re just a big fat prick…take some Tylenol…baby." His tone was biting, but calmed fractionally with each word he spoke. Lifting his shirt, Sam glared at the bruise forming along his ribs. "Great just great. I look like a domestic abuse victim."  
  
Suddenly it was like all the anger had just been drained from Dean along with any energy he'd had left. Stumbling to his feet, he dug in his pocket and tossed Sam the car keys. "Dude...just shut up and drive. I can't see straight." Shoulders hunched Dean slid into the passenger seat and started digging in the glove box for Tylenol.  
  
Standing slowly, his muscles protesting, Sam sighed. "Bitch, bitch, moan, moan…yes master…whatever you wish master." Sam grumbled softly like Igor, then slipped behind the steering wheel. Getting them back on the road he watched as Dean swallowed his Tylenol dry and then leaned back in the seat, his eyes closed.  
  
***  
  
Dean wasn't used to being the first to wake up and especially not after that damned dream last night. He was surprised that Sam hadn't woke him up at noon. The sky beyond the window was tinted a soft rose with the beginnings of dawn as he rolled from the bed. He rubbed his jaw and glanced over at Sam sprawled across the bed and a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He recalled the fight they'd had just over the Nebraska State line a week ago and shook his head. He didn't want to fight Sam, but he made it so hard not too, Dean thought.   
  
He stood up stretching and then walked to the side of Sam's bed looking down at him. Times like this he never wanted Sam to leave. He reached down and brushed a strand of hair from Sam's forehead a forlorn expression in his eyes.   
  
"Why can't I just tell you the truth Sam?" He whispered. "I'm more of a freak than you'll ever know." Turning away he grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A shower would do wonders, he decided.  
  
***  
  
Sam's eyelids flickered, then cautiously opened. He stretched his arms above his head, his knuckles banging against the cheap headboard of yet another cheap hotel. He wiggled his toes then looked over discovering Dean's bed unoccupied. Huh, he thought, that was odd. Blinking a few times, he sat up running one hand through his hair.   
  
"Dean?" He called out, but there was no answer, and then he strained his ears, noting the sound of the shower running. "Never mind." He mumbled to the empty room as he stood his muscles aching and his bones cracking. What he wouldn't give for a comfortable bed and some decent food that didn't come from a greasy bag, he thought. Yawning he knocked on the door. "Hurry up beauty queen I have to take a piss."  
  
On the other side of the door Dean stuck his head out of the shower and yelled. "Piss already then bitch!" Chuckling he yelled again over the pounding water. "Doors unlocked!" Turning back to the shower he ducked his head beneath the hot water, groaning as it washed away the last vestiges of the nightmare that still clung to his brain like cobwebs.  
  
Sam made a sour face at that suggestion. Every since he was little he hated peeing in the same room as Dean. Dean had always did shit or said shit to him, but he really had to go. Slipping inside the bathroom he unbuttoned his jeans, slipped himself out, and closed his eyes as the first stream started, sighing softly in relief.   
  
Grinning behind the shower curtain Dean considered giving Sam shit, but then he had to look at the big picture. No matter how much he denied it Sam could probably kick his ass now and he was naked, wet, and covered with soap. Suddenly it dawned on him what Sam was doing.   
  
"Don't you dare flush that toilet Sam!" He yelled as he rinsed the soap out of his hair.  
  
A maniacal grin curled Sam’s lips as he shook himself off, then wiggled his finger on the handle so Dean could hear him. "I would never do that Dean. I love you." Then he flushed zipping out of the bathroom as fast as he could, laughing the whole way.  
  
A loud roar came from the bathroom and a few seconds later Dean came running out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and soap bubbles still clinging to his dripping wet skin. "Sammy! You fucker!"  
  
Sam glanced up innocently sitting aside the book he’d been pretending to read. "Hum? What? Problems?"  
  
"Problems? PROBLEMS?!" Dean's face was flushed bright red. "Are you trying to deep fry me? I told you 'NOT' to flush the fucking toilet!" He stormed across the room holding the towel with one hand and smacked Sam in the back of the head with the other. "That was fucking evil! Are you possessed?" Dean raised one brow. "Cause I know how to perform an exorcism and it's not pretty."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean I am possessed---cleanse me."  
  
"Don't tempt me Sam!" Dean snapped as he headed back to the bathroom to rinse off the rest of the soap. "Next time you can piss your pants bitch!" He yelled over his shoulder.  
  
"Stop calling me bitch…BITCH!!" Sam yelled after him flipping his back off.   
  
A loud snort drifted from the bathroom and then the door slammed shut.  
  
"That's what I thought." Sam muttered as he pushed himself up from the chair and started sorting through his bag. He’d catch a shower next and then they’d have to figure out their next move. "So what's on the agenda Old Wise One?"  
  
Stepping out of the bathroom, wearing jeans, bare chested and barefooted, Dean scrubbed his hair dry. "Don't know." He grumped. "Where the hell are we anyway? Maybe we can dig up a job locally."  
  
"Kingston, Nebraska and hate to break it to you but this place seems pretty tame. Maybe we should cruise the net…see what we can find." Sam gathered up his clothes and walked around Dean.  
  
"Maybe..." Dean chewed his lip thoughtfully as he dropped the towel on the bed and dug into his bag for socks and a tee shirt. "Guess I could see what I can dig up on the net while you take a shower."   
  
"Sounds good." Sam yanked his shirt over his head and glanced back at Dean as he grabbed the doorknob. "Don't break my laptop." The door shut behind him and the sound of water started up a few seconds later.  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed Dean stared at the spot where Sam had just been standing and a shiver traveled through him. He shook himself as he tugged his tee shirt over his head, wondering exactly when little Sammy had quit being so little. Closing his eyes, he recalled the way Sam's muscles had rippled across his stomach as he lifted his arms and another chill shimmied across his skin.   
  
Every since Lawrence things had shifted between them. He still hadn't talked to Sam about what had happened in that house. He doubted he ever would---how could he? His dream from the previous night forced itself on him again and he inhaled trying to calm the knot in his gut.   
  
What Sam had taken for disbelief when he'd told Dean about his dreams hadn't been disbelief. It had been shock. The last thing he would have ever wished on his baby brother was that. He'd hoped that it was just him. That he was the only freak in the family. Some how he'd managed to become strong enough to suppress the dreams and everything else. He’d not had one since he’d been sixteen, but now they were back.   
  
He swallowed hard and finished pulling on his boots, and then went to sit at the table and flip open the laptop. As he got to the table, he wondered if it was still there lurking beneath the surface. From the moment, his mother's spirit had looked into his eyes everything had seemed to rush back.   
  
Sitting heavily in the chair, he fingered the charm around his neck thinking about Sam and how scared he'd been to tell him about the dreams. Those beautiful green-flecked hazel eyes filled with a fear he knew far too well. He lay his head on the table as the pain began throbbing in his temple again. When had he started thinking about his brother in terms of beauty?   
  
Next to the laptop lay one of Sam's pens and Dean lifted his head staring at it with an intensity he usually reserved for flirting in bars. Slowly the pen began to vibrate against the legal pad and then it lifted up off the table.   
  
"Fuck me." Dean groaned as the pen dropped back to the table. He didn't want this for his brother, but how was he supposed to stop it?  
  
***  
  
The water rushed over Sam’s tense body and he melted in its heated embrace. The shower was like an escape for him, a way out of his dark thoughts and dreams. His way to keep from thinking about anything demonic or evil. He still hadn't figured out his dreams or what they meant. He just knew they scared the fuck out of him. They also seemed to scare the shit out of Dean and that was never good. Because when your older protective brother was already too damn protective, he became uber-protective, when weird shit happened.  
  
He sighed, grabbing the shampoo and lathering a dollop into his shaggy locks spreading it across his scalp, and then grabbed the wash cloth and soaped it up massaging his tired muscles. Hopefully when he got out of the bathroom Dean would have something for them. Dean got antsy and therefore moody when he had nothing to do. Sam had no desire to deal with an antsy, moody Dean.  
  
Once he was clean and rinsed, he shut off the shower, grabbing the last dry towel, and started to wipe his damp body down. He grabbed his jeans and slid them up his still damp legs, then opened the bathroom door. As he walked out into the outer room, doing up his buttons, and his hair dripping, he grinned. "Anything?"  
  
Dean jerked back from the computer and sucked in a deep breath. "Shit you scared the fuck out of me Sammy." His shoulders slumped as he stared at Sam for a moment, his gaze traveling along his torso and he sighed softly. "Possible poltergeist...might just be a normal haunting." He nibbled his lower lip as his eyes lowered and he found himself staring at Sam's bare feet, studying the smooth skin across his instep. "A house out on Bellfontaine Road. There have been a number of calls to the police. Standard shit...lights, noises...what do you think?"  
  
Flipping his head back, his hair going everywhere, Sam blew a damp strand out of his face. "Worth checking out man if we’re here we might as well." Tossing his towel on top of Dean’s discarded one he walked over and peered over his brother’s shoulder reading. "Yeah…why not."  
  
A dull ache began to throb at the base of Dean's skull and he wondered if it was because of the close proximity of Sam or if it was the headache coming back. He sighed and took a deep breath as he felt a drop of water splash down on his shoulder. Sam's scent reached his nose and it twitched. Fresh and sweet, he thought, like spring rain.   
  
Shaking himself Dean glared up at Sam. "Dude you're dripping on me. I swear that shaggy hair is going to be the death of me...go dry it the fuck off." He stood and pushed back the chair. "We have any Tylenol left?"  
  
Sam grinned shaking his head, droplets of water flying all over Dean. "Aww…what's a matter moody Dean do you need a brotherly cuddle?"  
  
Spine stiffening Dean growled low in his throat. "What I need is a fucking Tylenol...oh and a brother who is bald!"   
  
Going to the bed, he rooted in his bag until he found the Tylenol bottle and opened it with trembling fingers. The headaches were beginning to piss him off and he knew eventually that Sam would notice he was popping Tylenol like M & M's. He groaned when he found the bottle empty.   
  
"Oh, Sam...need to stop and get some Tylenol on the way out to that house. I pulled up directions on Map Quest."  
  
"Okay…dude whatever." Sam shrugged, forgetting about his little water torture game, and went back to the laptop memorizing the directions. "Alright I got them." He shut the laptop and grabbed his shirt slipping it on. "We'll stop get you your bitch-ache pills then we can check out this thing." He sat down on the bed and slipped on his shoes lacing them up.  
  
Rolling his eyes Dean shoved the empty bottle in his bag. "I got to go take a piss, then we can go." With a quick glance at Sam he ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.   
  
As soon as the door shut, he slumped against the sink staring into the mirror. "Fuck..." he grunted softly letting his eyes drift shut. The headache was getting worse and he knew what that meant. He'd had the headaches before he'd learned to control the freaky shit. There was only one reason why they'd be back.   
  
Reaching over he flushed the toilet and then turned back to the sink. He had to let it out and that was the last thing he needed to do. Sam could never know about this--- never---no matter whatever else happened. The handle on the sink turned sharply of its own accord and as it did the pain eased in Dean's head.  
  
In the other room, Sam pulled on his jacket, feet kicking against each other impatiently as he waited. He lifted his watch giving it a glance and sighed. "Dean come on! Tylenol on the way and a house to check. You’re such a girl I swear to god. You've been in there for like three minutes now. Shake and wash, shake and wash, this cannot be so hard dude."  
  
Sighing Dean finished splashing water on his face then turned off the sink. This was going to be hell trying to hide this shit from Sam, he thought. Pushing open the door he plastered his best smart-ass grin on his face and strolled out of the bathroom.   
  
"Well at least I don't shake more than twice like you." He grabbed his jacket and the keys, heading for the door. "By the way," he yelled over his shoulder, "...you shake more than twice Sammy it's considered playing with yourself." Chuckling he disappeared out the door before he could hear anything Sam said to that.  
  
Yeah, Sam thought, that was his brother. Always thinking about dick or wait he paused---his hand on the door---maybe he should find another way to describe that. He watched his brother flip him off, then muttered. "Nope I'm sticking with he thinks about dick."  
  
He returned the finger with one of his own feeling so very grown up, then jumped off the sidewalk and slid into the car. "To the store Jeeves."  
  
TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

***  
  
An hour later Dean's headache had subsided to a dull roar as he pulled up in front of the house in question. The neighborhood was upper middle class with beautifully maintained lawns and mini-vans in the driveways, but 115 Bellefontaine, which sat at the end of the dead-end street, was the exception.   
  
It wasn't your typical haunted house, but there was something definitely off about the place. All the other houses were painted in white or pale pastels, but 115 was a deep hunter green with cream shutters. Its empty windows stared out on the street like black eyes and Dean shivered as he stepped out of the car. Outside of the fact that the lawn was over grown and it's darker color, it seemed in decent condition.   
  
"So Sammy..." Dean drawled as he leaned against the fender, "...what do you think? Getting any weird spook vibes?"  
  
Sam walked up beside Dean, eyeing the house. "Well, it definitely doesn't fit in with the rest of Pleasantville that's for sure." He squinted, then looked closer at the house. "It definitely has that ‘creepy things aren't well’ vibe going Dean."  
  
Heading up the sidewalk Sam walked up the front steps, his fingers grazing along the railing, as he tried to see if he could pick up anything. Maybe this thing that was happening to him might actually be of some use, he thought, but he just frowned. "Nothing’s jumping out at me, but my gut says otherwise."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Dean followed after, watching Sam carefully for any sign of the creepy crawlies. He was worried about Sam and he hated hiding it, but he couldn't afford to scare the shit out of Sam. Besides the weirdness, that had been visiting Sam, was a bit different than what he'd went through.   
  
"Looks like it's for sale." Dean cleared his throat nodding at a red, white, and blue REMAX sign. "So should we call or just do a little breaking and entering?" He snickered softly.  
  
"You know us Dean. I say call…you say break in…tomato, tomatoe…you'll just break in anyway. So why do you even bother asking me?" Stepping aside, he allowed Dean to walk by so he could get to work on the door. He checked in either direction making sure no one was watching. After all, it was his job. Whoever was doing the illegal activity the other watched their back---he really loved his family---seriously, he did.  
  
A few seconds passed and Dean was ready to scream bloody murder when finally he heard that beautiful click and turned to Sam smirk firmly in place. He waggled his fingers at Sam as he stood up pushing the door open. "Still got it. Let's go check and see if Casper is home."  
  
"Yes, Dean your breaking and entering skills are better than anyone else’s and you should be worshipped accordingly." Sam chuckled sarcastically as he headed inside the house behind Dean. He glanced around, left to right; the usual sweep dad had taught them. Too many evil things out there to assume that the things you thought might be lurking were what you'd get. "Casper was a friendly ghost Dean. I don't think whatever is here is friendly---if there's anything at all."  
  
Dean snorted. "Casper was a creepy lil' fucker Sam. Damn ghost was too damn friendly if you ask me." His gaze moved over the hardwood floor to where a narrow staircase lead up to the second floor, then drifted down to where the long narrow hallway led to the back of the house. "So split up or together bro'?"   
  
His gaze shifted to the rounded archway to their right that led into what appeared to be a living room. For a split second, he could have sworn he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned there was nothing. Sam snorted and turned towards the living room.   
  
"I think I can survive checking out a house without you holding my hand Dean." Then he was heading into the living room.   
  
Sam’s fingers tapped along the wall and ghosted over wallpaper that looked too old for a house that appeared so new from the outside. He frowned and headed towards the fireplace ducking his head and peering up into the darkness.   
  
"Did you ever stop to think we should get paid for this? I mean in the non-emergency no death moments. When we’re called in?" Sam called out just loud enough that Dean might hear him.  
  
Half way up the stairwell Dean snickered. "Thinking about opening a home office Sammy?" He yelled over his shoulder. "Cause you know...me...not so good with the paperwork."   
  
He chuckled as he hit the top of the stairs and turned into the hallway that ran to the right. Along the left wall were three doors and on the right were three more.   
  
"Shit doesn't look this big from the outside." Dean mumbled softly.  
  
Moving down the dim hall, he pushed open the first door to a perfectly square room with a fireplace to his left and nothing else to speak of other than a major supply of dust bunnies. Dean sighed as he headed to the next room and pushed open the door. He could hear Sam moving around downstairs and it eased the itch that was creeping over his skin a bit. Sam might not be noticing anything, but he was positive there was something there.   
  
Dean stepped through the next door and discovered the same thing as he had inside the previous room. Although the peeling wallpaper in this room was a faded, gold silk pattern rather than the pale blue of the previous room. He stepped further into the room and noticed a sheet draped piece of furniture. At that precise moment was when he heard the music, a soft tinkling sound like a music box, and it appeared to be coming from beneath the sheet.   
  
Raising one brow he slowly made his way to the sheet and yanked it off not sure what he expected to find. Beneath was a mahogany dressing table with a huge oval mirror, delicately sculpted ivy surrounding the dusty glass. In the center of the tabletop, was a small music box of silver, its lid open and faint strains of music drifting up from its rotating cylinder. He knew that song, he thought, something from an old movie. As if on cue he heard a woman's soft voice began singing and a shiver traveled up his spine.   
  
Somewhere my love...There will be songs to sing...  
  
***  
  
Sam lifted up from a crouch and was about to walk to the far corner of the living room to check out the closets when a quick shot of pure cold ran up his spine. That shot of cold made him shiver hard as he glanced towards the ceiling and he called out.   
  
"Dean?" His older brother didn't answer him and Sam took that as his cue. He started to speed walk and then he was skipping stairs making his way up. He tried calling out again. "Dean?"  
  
Still there was no answer.  
  
***  
  
He wasn't sure what made him turn, but he did and to his surprise, there was nothing there. He cleared his throat and glanced back at the table where the music box still played softly. Suddenly he felt coldness surrounding him like gentle arms and a soft voice whispered in his ear.   
  
It's beautiful...Mikhail...   
  
Shivering Dean turned again and this time he saw the woman the voice belonged too. She was nothing but a faint misty shadow as she stood in front of the fireplace swaying and twirling to the music. Her voice rippled across Dean's skin like silk, cool and soft, a faint whisper edged with tears and he found himself drawn to her---his legs moving of their own accord. Chest heavy and aching he opened his mouth to call out for Sam, but the words refused to come.   
  
Mikhail...why...why...   
  
The words drifted on the icy air as Dean moved closer and closer, his jaw working furiously as he tried to speak or scream or anything. She looked up with dark liquid eyes and drifted towards Dean her voice fading into an echo.   
  
Help me...help me...   
  
He could feel her seep into his bones, his muscles, and his gut. It was so achingly cold it burned his insides.  
  
***  
  
Sam flew down the hall and through open doors checking everywhere until he ran into the right room. There was a ‘bingo!’ inside of his head when he discovered Dean, but he went dead still suddenly knowing something was wrong. "Dean?" He didn't like this not in the least damn bit, he thought. "Dean…say something."  
  
A soft sigh drifted from Dean's lips as he turned towards Sam his usual hazel-green eyes were now a deep rich brown and he smiled sadly at Sam. Turning away, he walked past Sam, out into the hall, and headed down to the end of the passageway.  
  
"Oh no, no, no, no." Sam chanted as he ducked out into the hall, following what was now obviously Dean’s possessed body. "Listen…okay? You have to listen to me. Do you have a name?"   
  
When he got no response, he darted around Dean and held out his hands blocking Dean’s progress. "You have to talk to me because you’re not taking my brother anywhere."   
  
He looked deep into those rich dark eyes and he felt a little nauseous. It wasn't right to look into his brother’s face and not see those hazel eyes he was so used, too. "Dean can you hear me?" He whispered knowing he probably wouldn't get anywhere, but he had to try it.  
  
Those dark eyes glanced back up at Sam; a sheen of tears glistening along their surface. Dean's lips parted and a soft feminine voice slipped past them. "Lara---"   
  
Sam let out a small breath. "Right Lara…okay, Lara what happened to you? How can I help you? Talk to me."  
  
Turning Dean's gaze lifted to where there was a trap door in the ceiling and then drifted back to Sam's worried expression. A tear trailed down Dean's face as he lifted one arm stiffly and pointed at the trap door. "There---"   
  
Nodding Sam lifted his arms, grabbing the handle. The first pull presented no results and he grunted. "Figures…just fucking figures." He pulled again and there was nothing. "FUCK!" He gritted his teeth, but finally let the handle go rubbing his friction-hot sweat dampened palms over his jeans. "Okay…I can do this." He turned trying not to see Dean but to see the person inside him. "Just stay here promise you'll stay right here. I'm going to get something to bust this loose." Nodding his head Dean's gaze drifted back to the door and a soft sob escaped his lips as Sam fled down the stairs.   
  
Inside his head, Dean was terrified and he tried to talk to the woman who'd decide his body was a mass transit system. She was weeping and the sound surrounded him so completely he thought he might just go mad with it. She wouldn't talk to him no matter how much he tried to urge her too though. He felt his physical body sink to the floor and scalding tears streak his face.   
  
Come on lady give me a break here. What do I look like a city bus or a taxi service, Dean wondered?  
  
***   
  
Sam nearly tumbled down the stairs on his way down and began searching for the kitchen. Once he’d discovered it, he began jerking open cabinets and doors, looking for anything solid enough to break that damn door loose. He grabbed an old broom from a closet and a hammer, then decided he'd have to make due with that.   
  
Hopping back up the stairs, he groaned. If this hunt got him anything, it would be a damn work out. Once he was back to the spot at the end of the hall he glanced down at the slumped body, still trying to pretend it was someone else, someone he could help. Then again, he needed to help Dean---didn’t he? If he didn't concentrate on the spirit inside he might not ever accomplish that feat.   
  
"Okay,” He spoke calm and slow, “…I'm just going to work on this. It's going to be all right you'll see. I'll help you." He dropped the broom to the floor, getting a good grip on the hammer, and then put all his strength behind it when he swung it into the door. An immense cloud of dust sifted down on him causing a coughing fit as he flung it away from his face with a waving arm. "Damn I hate old abandoned houses." He mumbled between coughs.  
  
He swung again, this time pressing his forearm to his mouth and nose to keep the dust particles from clogging his throat. Repeatedly he slammed the hammer into the wood until he heard a crack and he cheered inside dropping the hammer. Squatting down he grabbed the broom and used it to push upward on the door. It started to creak, the sound echoing off the walls and through the empty rooms of the house.   
  
"I told my brother we should get paid for this. We should totally get paid for this.” Sam grumbled in frustration.  
  
When the broom handle pushed up enough of the door Sam jumped and grabbed the edge pushing as hard as he could. The door flew wide open, falling back to reveal an eerie, inky blackness. “Right…okay up we go. Wouldn’t happen to have a ET finger do you?” He really didn’t want to go down to the car to get a flashlight. When he got nothing but a vacant stare, he just sighed. “Never mind.” He lifted up and grabbed the ladder pulling it down sharply. It slid down landing with a rusty shriek and a thud on the floor and Sam took a deep breath. “Let’s hope there’s a light up here.”  
  
Dean slowly lifted from the floor and started up the ladder into the darkness. Inside his head, Dean was screaming at Sam, although he knew it would do no good. How the hell did he even know it was safe to follow this woman up the stairs?   
  
Jeez...Sammy, he thought with a sigh and watched through his own eyes as his body ascended the ladder into the dusty attic. He turned and glanced down at Sam. He felt his mouth open, but it was her damn voice and not his that came out. "Here...please...help me."  
  
Sam paused, one, two, perhaps three seconds weighing his options. He could trust whomever this was that had possessed his brother’s body and pray that once he climbed up there all hell wouldn’t literally break loose. On the other hand, he could just stand here, hope she became bored, and decided to take over the next idiot who walked inside of this house. However, his brother was in there and he was going to go on faith.   
  
He started up the ladder, climbing into the dark attic. “Show me. Tell me what happened…please.” Sam begged softly.  
  
Beneath Dean's feet, the floorboards squeaked in protest as he walked towards the far end of the attic. Small round windows in the roof, thick with dust, allowed a small amount of weak light into the dusty cluttered space. Half way to the end of the attic Dean turned back and stared at Sam with those wide unnatural dark eyes.   
  
"Come..." the soft eerie voice was now thick with tears and edged with fear, "...no please Mikhail please no---" Dean turned as the words faded into the shadows and started walking again until he came to a halt in front of the brick wall of the chimney. His hands lifted and he stroked at the rough brick. "Why Mikhail? Why---"  
  
Sam frowned and inched forward slowly his hands in clear sight. Okay things he knew so far, he thought. Someone named Mikhail had killed her and now she was standing in front of the chimney stroking the brick. Son of a bitch, he thought. “He killed you---right? Mikhail?”  
  
A soft sob escaped Dean's lips and he started clawing at the brick desperately as tears trickled down his face. "No, please don't Mikhail...no." Her voice rose in a wail of agony as Dean's fingers dug frantically at the wall of brick. As his movements became more frantic, he began gasping for air as if he couldn't breath.  
  
“He choked you to death?” Sam whispered as he grabbed Dean’s frantic hands, gently cupping them in his own. “He put you in the chimney? He put your body here?” His head nodded in a gesture towards the chimney. Dean’s breathing worsened and then Sam’s eyes widened with realization. “No that’s not it all. He thought you were dead before he put you here and you weren’t. You wouldn’t be gasping if he strangled you. You wouldn’t be breathing at all. You’re gasping because there was no air to breathe in the chimney.” Sam’s face took a mortified expression. “Oh, god…I’m so sorry.”   
  
He released Dean’s hands, scrambled back downstairs to retrieve the hammer, and then returned. He guided Dean away from the wall then started chipping away chunks of brick with wild swings of the hammer. Chunks fell away little by little until Sam could get his fingers into a hole and started pulling out broken pieces of brick. When the smell hit Sam, he almost vomited right there.   
  
“I found you.” He murmured a hint of sadness edging his voice as he moved back away from the wall. “Christ I hate this damn job sometimes.”   
  
Her body was curled up in a fetal position and barely anything remained to identify her with. He couldn’t imagine the fear she went through trapped inside, no escape or any air, after being betrayed by someone she clearly loved and supposedly loved her back. He shook his head.   
  
“Why?” Sam whispered. “What did you do? Why would he?”  
  
Dean's eyes widened as he slumped to the floor, his face cupped in his scratched and bleeding hands and began weeping. The sound seemed to surround them and echo in the small space. He lifted his head and stretched his hands out towards Sam.   
  
"My...my baby..." the spirit’s voice took on a hollow sound as she spoke through Dean, "...our baby..." Dean made a choking sound and curled his arms around his abdomen protectively. "Mikhail I loved you...was yours...loved you...no---" the tears continued trailing down Dean's face as he rocked back and forth cradling his abdomen and then she began to sing softly. "You'll come to me...Out of the long ago... Warm as the wind, soft as the kiss of snow."  
  
Vomiting was becoming an even more undeniable force, Sam thought. So much so, he had to cover his mouth as he turned his back to the body just to keep from upchucking all over himself. “You were pregnant?”  
  
Throwing back his head Dean's mouth contorted in a scream and a soft shimmer seemed to float just above his skin. Slowly it rose and separated from him and Dean collapsed onto his side coughing and gagging. The mist began to coalesce into the form of a beautiful delicate-boned woman with wild dark curls that hung down her back and huge dark eyes that focused on Sam's pale face. Her cheeks glistened with ethereal tears as her lips, full and soft curled into a sad smile.   
  
Tell them...my family...   
  
Her voice held a hint of a Russian accent as it echoed in Sam’s head.   
  
He went mad...he thought there was another, but I would never...no other...   
  
She stepped closer to Sam and her hand lifted, her cold fingers grazing across his skin.   
  
Rest...give my baby and I eternal rest...   
  
Her soft plea faded, and then she turned vanishing into the shattered brick wall leaving Sam and Dean alone.   
  
"Sammy..." Dean moaned softly curling into a tighter ball and coughing violently.  
  
Sam lifted his head, his gaze fixing on the ceiling of the attic, as he tried composing himself. Finally, he knelt down gripping Dean’s arms and pulling him up. “Yeah, Dean I’m here. Are you alright?”  
  
His vision swam for a moment and he felt like he was going to vomit as he inhaled deeply. "Shit, I feel like my brain's been turned," he stopped and turned away gagging and then threw up. Wiping the back of his arm across his mouth, he glanced over at Sam with red rimmed eyes. "Like I was saying...my brain's been turned inside out." He tried to smirk, but it came out as painful rather than humorous.  
  
“I’m sorry man I shouldn’t have split up with you. I worked this as fast as I could. Did you get the down low? We have to help her Dean. We can’t just leave her and…” Sam stuttered, “…we can’t just leave her and her baby in that chimney.”  
  
For a moment, Dean looked like he was going to throw up again and then he took a deep breath. "Call the cops..." he grunted, "...but first get me the hell out of here Sammy. Shit I think I'm going to be sick again." He clamped his hand over his mouth and swallowed.  
  
Sam nodded and gripped Dean’s arms tight, pulling him to his feet. He wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders and walked him slowly to the ladder. Some how they managed to get down it with minimal trouble and down to the front door.   
  
Once they were there, Sammy pulled out his cell and called the local police. Finally, he let go of Dean leaning him against the door to glance up the stairs. “I don’t understand people Dean. I don’t understand people who hurt and kill. I never could and it doesn’t get any easier. How could he? Who does things like that?”  
  
"Like I've said before and I’ll say it again..." Dean slid to the floor, "...people are just fucking crazy." He clutched his head in his hands groaning. "Shit...Sammy I really feel like my head's going to pop like a balloon."   
  
“That’s because someone else was using it for a little while. Two people in that little brain of yours had to be painful. I bet she stretched you all out.” Sam grumbled, then kicked his brother’s leg. “Idiot!”   
  
He couldn’t explain it but once the call was made and he had asked the question. A sudden burst of anger welled up inside him. “What kind of demon and evil spirit hunter extraordinare goes and gets himself possessed by a spirit---huh? Seriously Dean just put up a rental sign and be done with it. You freaked me out.”  
  
"Sam...dude please..." Dean made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat, "...can we talk about this later. I really think I'm going to..." suddenly he was on his feet and out the door, heaving in the bushes until all that was left was bile bitter and thick on his tongue. He lifted his hand and wiped at his mouth and as he lowered it, he noticed a smear of blood. "Sammy...?" He lifted his hand again and ran his fingers along his upper lip. Drawing them back, he swallowed harshly at the sight of his own blood-slicked fingers.  
  
“WHAT?!” Sam yelled as he turned, but at the sight of the blood, he hissed softly walking over and grabbing his brother’s hand. “Dean what the hell? She was even a nice spirit.” He tilted Dean’s head back. “Open up---okay?”  
  
Dean groaned and his eyes fluttered. "This ain't good Sammy..." he opened his mouth and licked the blood from his lip. His head was hurting like a son of a bitch and he was scared. Hell, scared was to simple an explanation---he was fucking terrified. As the pounding increased in his skull he felt blood begin to seep from his nose.   
  
When Sam saw the blood dripping down he stopped looking for a cut or any other source of the blood from Dean’s mouth and he cursed softly. “Son of a bitch Dean.” He took his arm again and started down the stairs. “That’s it we’re going to a hospital.” He searched Dean’s pockets, found the keys, and led Dean to the passenger side.  
  
Everything was blurring around Dean and Sam's voice was muffled, but he could still hear the fear laced in his words. Beneath him his legs felt like wet noodles and he stumbled. Sam caught him and barely managed to keep them both up. He pushed that final few steps to the car then leaned against it. Taking out his cell, he called the police again explaining the situation, but not giving any names. He gave them all they needed to know to find Lara and her baby, and then he was shoving Dean into the car and calling information for the closest possible hospital.   
  
“Just stay with me Dean do you hear me?” Sam glanced over, his free hand reaching out to shake Dean’s shoulder gently. “Please Dean.”  
  
"Not goin' anywhere lil' bro..." Dean moaned softly, his eyes rolling back in his head, and his body trembling. "Sammy..." he felt like his head was being beaten in with a baseball bat and he remembered being five years old and his father stroking his face gently, just like Sam's touch now, and the taste of blood on his lips. His entire body shuddered and tears of pain dripped down his face.   
  
“Good.” Sam whispered his chest feeling like it was going to explode. He couldn’t let it though. He had to keep it together--- he just had too. Every time he thought about the chance that Dean might die or if he thought Dean might go away and never ‘ever’ come back, he got this ache in his chest that he couldn’t explain. Sure Dean was his brother, but somehow it was more than that. Dean was everything to him and more---brother, best friend and protector. He may have walked away to go to college, but that didn’t mean a thing, if he had wanted Dean, he was nothing but a phone call away.  
  
Stepping on the gas a little harder Sam took the corner. He rounded it and he spotted the hospital up ahead. “Almost there.”  
  
Dean's head rolled to the side his face a mask of pain and blood, his eyes growing cloudy in shock. "Don't be upset..." his voice trailed off for a moment as his eyes fluttered shut. A spasm tore up his spine and into his screaming brain and he gasped for air. "...never leave you...Sammy." His eyes rolled back in his head again and his spine arched up off the seat as he cried out in pain.  
  
Sam gripped the steering wheel so hard he felt skin tear and he nailed his foot hard to the gas pedal. The hand on Dean’s shoulder gripped tight and he fought to keep himself from crying like a baby from the fear that coiled in his gut. He ran over a speed bump and through a patch of grass almost hitting a car to swerve and spin out finally coming to a flat out stop in front of the hospital. He let go of Dean long enough to climb out and run around, swinging open the passenger door. Then he was scooping up Dean with a strength he didn’t question getting inside as fast as possible.   
  
“Help me!” He shouted, the nurses at the front desk swinging around. “I don't know what’s wrong…just please help him!”  
  
One of the nurses yelled over her shoulder at an intern. "Get Connelly over here now!" She ran around the corner of the desk and waved at Sam. "Come on son let's get him in here."   
  
She pushed open the doors to the exam rooms and guided Sam into a cubicle. "Lay him down here, honey." Her kind grey eyes met Sam's and she smiled softly. "We'll do our best, honey. Now what's his name?"  
  
Sam opened his mouth, the first try was choked, and the welled up tears began to fall, but he swallowed and tried again. “Dean, his name is Dean Winchester.” He laid him down on the exam room bed, but he didn’t let go of his jacket. He wove a button around his finger and tried to keep his feet from tapping erratically.  
  
"That's good sweetie." Her voice was soothing and calm as she checked Dean's pupils. "Did he take any drugs? Eat any thing unusual in the last twenty-four hours?" She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began cleaning the blood from Dean's face.  
  
“No and no. He had some Tylenol because he had a headache. He’s been having them more lately than he usually does, but that’s it. Dean’s clean as a whistle. He drinks sometimes but he’s not heavy with it.” Sam tried to keep his jaw working, his mouth talking, because if he did maybe he could stop this panic. He didn’t know what was wrong, but it was those what-ifs, that absolutely petrified him. “He was shaking in the car on the ride here and his nose was bleeding. Blood was coming from his mouth or his lip, too.” He wanted so badly to mention the spirit but knew he couldn’t.  
  
She nodded and flashed him a gentle smile. "Sounds like maybe he's had an aneurysm or maybe a stroke, honey, but don't you worry." She glanced up as a dark haired man in his early forties came in.   
  
"What do we have Marsha?"   
  
"Young man mid to late twenties." She glanced at Sam to confirm and Sam nodded. "Just got here. Pupils are dilated, possible convulsions and bleeding from the nose and mouth."   
  
She carefully pulled Dean's jacket off his shoulders and down his limp arms, tossing it to the side, then wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his bicep. Pushing up Dean's tee shirt she pressed the stethoscope against his chest and began pumping the cuff up. As she worked, she kept giving Sam gentle glances.   
  
Connelly checked Dean's pupils again and sighed. "Looks like they’re equal that's good. Name?"   
  
"Dean Winchester." Marsha answered. "No history of drugs or alcohol abuse. His BP is a little high. His heart rate seems to be a little high as well, but his breathing is good."   
  
"Okay, let's get him cleaned up and prepped and send him up to neurology---okay?" He turned back to Sam and a look of resignation crossed his dark eyes. This was always the worst part, he thought.   
  
TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

***  
  
Connelly turned to Sam with a hopeful smile. "You brought Dean in?"  
  
The words stroke or aneurysm had did absolutely fuck all in helping Sam calm down. When Dean’s jacket had came off he just kind of grabbed it and tried not to cling to it like a little boy lost in a sea of faces about to lose the one person that meant anything to him. He loved his father always had and always would but Dean was something Sam just could never do without. He didn’t take his eyes off his brother but he did nod.   
  
“Yes.”  
  
Connelly cleared his throat to get Sam's attention. "Are you family or a friend?"  
  
"Brother." Sam murmured his eyes never turning away from Dean. "Younger brother."  
  
"Good," Connelly cleared his throat again, "...can you come with me, son. We need to talk. I promise you that your brother is in very capable hands. Marsha's been a nurse for nearly thirty years. He couldn't be in more capable hands." He headed for the door giving Marsha a quick nod as an MA joined her and they began preparing Dean for the move to neurology.  
  
Sam didn't want to leave; he didn't want to move from this spot that he’d claimed right beside his brother. The fact that some stranger was asking him to just up and abandon Dean was seriously a waste of time. It didn't matter to him how long any of these nurses did what they did. No one knew Dean like he did.   
  
Nevertheless, they were getting ready to take him away and try to help him. Sam figured he could fight and claw them until kingdom come, but he wouldn't get any closer to staying near his brother. So he nodded and gripped Dean's hand in his rubbing his thumb over Dean's palm then he let go. Just like that he just let go. His chest tightened like a vise that was trying to squeeze the life out of him. The only comfort he had was the jacket nearly being ripped to shreds in his fingers.   
  
Leading Sam out of the exam room, Connelly took him to a small office down the hall. He glanced at the young man in front of him and he sighed softly. His eyes were red-rimmed, his jacket stained with his brother's blood, and his trembling hands were twisted in the leather of his brother's jacket.   
  
"Have a seat, son." He motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk and stepped around to the other side, settling into the chair there. "I didn't get your name son and I like to know the person I'm speaking with."   
  
Sam sat awkwardly, shifting his legs a few times before he just gave up and let them stretch out in front of him straight as a board, but his feet were clicking against each other. "Sam."  
  
"Okay that's a good start." Connelly leaned across the desk. "Sam do you have anyone you can call? Parents...any family at all? I'm only asking because to be frank your brother's condition could be as simple as a few busted capillaries from a severe migraine or as complicated as a severe stroke or a possible tumor. We just will not know until I get the results from neurology. They'll be doing a   
CAT scan and we'll run a number of standard blood tests."   
  
He tapped his fingers against the desk, a worried expression on his face. He was trying to make it as easy and as honest for the young man in front of him as possible. The poor kid looked like he'd been through hell and back.  
  
"Dad." Keep it together Sam don't cry, he thought. Forge on, you have to be tough Sam. We have to stick together, stay strong, and work together. We’re a family Sam. "He's not easy to get a hold of though, we have a number, but he never answers. I can leave a message when you have a idea." He gripped the coat tighter in his lap and stared at a spatter of blood. "When can I see him again?"  
  
Connelly flashed Sam a compassionate smile. "The tests will take about an hour and then we'll get him settled into a room. The cafeteria is down at the end of the hall to your left. Go see if maybe you can get something to eat. I know you probably don't feel like eating, but you need to be strong for your brother---okay?"  
  
They were meant to be words of compassion to make him feel better, but they failed miserably. Sam quickly stood, nodding in an attempt to keep the tears from falling so quickly. He walked to the door and then paused, his hand on the door. "Dean's the strong one doctor---he was always the strong one." Then he pushed through the door disappearing towards the cafeteria. He wouldn't eat or drink until he knew what was going on with Dean. Slipping one hand in his pocket, he fingered the cell phone hidden there. He knew he should call and tell his dad but he couldn't---not yet.  
  
***  
  
Connelly knew the boy was waiting in the cafeteria where he'd been sitting for the past hour and a half and he knew the kid would want answers about his brother. What Connelly couldn't give him were straightforward answers. The CAT scan had revealed some abnormal activity in the frontal lobe of Dean's brain, but there were no tumors and most of the blood had came from burst capillaries. He flipped through the clipboard and sighed.   
  
To be honest the electrical activity in Dean's bran worried him. It was located in areas that it shouldn't be in. He studied the colored print out of the CAT scan and chewed the tip of his pen thoughtfully. He could probably keep Dean here tops twenty four hours unless the blood tests came back with abnormalities, but even then he wasn't sure. Hell, he'd never seen anything quite like this. It was like a portion of his brain had just woke up and decided it wanted to play.   
  
As he pushed through the swinging doors of the cafeteria he glanced up to see Sam across the room slouched in a corner booth a look of abject misery etched on his face. Crossing the room he stopped at the booth and spoke softly. "Sam how you holding up, son?"   
  
Sam jerked as he glanced up with wide eyes. He had been somewhere far off thinking about something. It had started out as worries for Dean, then in typical fashion branched off, and before he knew it he was staring at one spot analyzing everything in his life and Dean's. Just now, he’d been analyzing the pros of saying jelly versus jam. He rubbed his eyes, his voice quiet, and filled with exhaustion.   
  
"As best as I can---I guess. We’re a pretty tough family. That is until one of us gets hurt and then it's like we fall apart at the seams. " But even saying that aloud seemed too much when all he wanted was to know about Dean. “ So is he okay?"  
  
Slipping into the booth, Connelly sat and opened the med-file on the clipboard. "They're settling him into a room right now. Thankfully, the CAT scan shows no sign of stroke or aneurysm. There were also no signs of any type of tumor, malignant or otherwise." He tapped his pen against the file. "Something else did show up in the CAT scan though that worries me a bit. Can you tell me what happened right before he became ill? There is some odd electrical activity in his frontal lobe. I've never seen anything like quiet like it."  
  
Sam paused, blinked, and then lifted a brow. "Uhm..." He had to lie he didn't have a choice here.   
  
He couldn't just come out and say 'Yes Doctor you see it might be because a spirit of a dead woman possessed my brother.' It everything was that easy maybe he and his brother wouldn't have to be one of the few people in the world doing what they did. If it were that easy, he wouldn't have to lie.   
  
"I don't have any idea. It was just like I said headaches that seemed to keep going and then the nosebleeds and the shakes. He threw up a few times when it got really bad but I don't know what could be causing the electrical activity."  
  
Reaching out Connelly patted Sam's hand. "It's okay, son I just thought perhaps he'd had some type of electrical shock. Look I know you're worried and they should have him settled by now. I'm still waiting on the blood tests so we're going to keep him at least over night. I have a colleague that I would like to have look at the results of your brother's CAT scan. Now go see him...Room 212. I'm going to try my damnedest to make sure he's going to be okay."   
  
Sam was up Dean's coat in hand and holding out his hand. "Thank you, I mean it thank you. This means a lot to me I was really freaked out."  
  
"You're welcome son." Connelly's smile softened. "I do have to warn you that they did sedate him so he might be a bit out of it. Now go." He waved Sam on with a nod of understanding.   
  
That was all the encouragement he’d needed. Nodding back Sam turned and headed for the hall, walking the corridors, until he finally found the room where Dean was. He’d glanced inside, seeing if his brother was there, before he opened the door and slipped inside. Sitting Dean's jacket on one of the chairs, he slipped off his own as well, and lay it atop Dean’s. He grabbed the other chair, pulling it up to the bed, and studied Dean with worried eyes.   
  
His voice was soft when he spoke his brother’s name just a faint whisper of air between his trembling lips. "Dean?"  
  
Deep inside the darkness, Dean heard a voice call his name and he knew that voice as well as he knew his own. He swallowed hard, his throat sandpaper dry as he tried to breathe. He tried to open his eyes, but his lids felt like they were made of lead. A soft groan escaped his lips as he tried again and this time it worked, but his world was a too bright smear of light and shadow. He swallowed again and tried to focus his eyes, but they refused to cooperate.  
  
Sam reached out, his fingertips gliding down and urging Dean’s eyelids to drift shut again. "It's okay just keep them closed. You don't have to open them. You don't have to say anything either. I just wanted you to know I'm here now---I'm not leaving Dean. You just rest and then we’re getting out of this town. As far away as we can." He should win an Oscar, Sam thought, just for the fact that his voice didn’t crack once. Lifting his hand from where it rested over Dean's eyes, he sighed when they stayed closed. "Just rest Dean."  
  
Letting out an exhausted breath, Dean allowed the darkness to pull him back under with a painful whisper. "Sammy..." Sam was here and that's all he had to know for the moment. Sam was safe and sitting there like a sentry next too him and that eased the worry away.  
  
"Yeah, Dean…Sammy's here." He hated that name, he hated being called it no matter what. If anyone else even tried it, even his dad, he’d become furious. But, Dean though, Dean always managed to get away with more than anyone else ever did. He curled a finger around the bracelet on Dean's wrist playing with it as he settled his head on one arm that lay folded on the edge of the bed. Before he knew it, the world fell away.  
  
***  
  
The next time Dean woke, the windows along the far wall were dark, and the overheads had been turned down he blinked and turned his head, a weak smile curling his lips. There next to the bed was Sam, his chin just resting just above his arms that were folded over his chest even in sleep Sam could look defiant at times. He licked his lips trying to get rid of the dryness and called out. His voice gritty and so low he could hardly recognize it.   
  
"Sam...dude."  
  
Eyes fluttering open, Sam flashed Dean a minute smile. "Hey Sleeping Beauty have a nice nap? Want some water or something? Pretty nurses brought it in about an hour or so ago. Made me move from the bed because they said it would make my muscles stiffen up."  
  
Dean snorted, turning away, and closed his eyes. He felt like shit, but he didn't want to let Sam know the truth of just how bad. "Water's good." He croaked out between dry lips, then turned his head back towards Sam the muscles in his neck protesting. "You okay Sam?"  
  
Rising from his chair, Sam began popping all his muscles from his neck down to his toes, and gave his brother a look. "Yeah, I'm fine---why?"   
  
He was lying and he knew it, but he needed to shrug this off. He had to act like everything he’d gone through in the past few hours, hadn’t affected him like it had. Dean had enough power over him already, he thought. He walked to the water pitcher, grabbing a plastic cup, and filled it, then brought it back to Dean. Pulling himself up a bit, Dean took the offered cup and drank the water slowly studying Sam's closed off expression. He knew Sam was lying through his pearly whites, but he was too damn tired to call him on it. He lowered the glass to his lap.   
  
"What happened?" He whispered. "I don't remember much. Remember getting sick outside the house and there was blood..." his voice trailed off as he rubbed his thumb along the rim of the cup. God his head hurt and he just wished he were anywhere, but here.  
  
"You threw up a few times and your nose started bleeding. That was after you were bleeding from your mouth. You were barely staying wake…pretty much passed out before I got you to the car, and then you were shivering really badly in the car. You freaked me out Dean. I broke at least ten laws getting you here. They did tests…asked me questions. They said you had some odd electrical activity in your brain. I guess that spirit did a number on you even if she wasn't evil…guess your head couldn't take it."  
  
"Guess so..." Dean glanced up through his lashes at Sam.   
  
He knew what it was and he felt like an utter heel lying to Sam, but he knew Sam couldn't deal with it. Hell he couldn't deal with the dreams he'd started experiencing. What would he do if he found out Dean had a secret he'd been hiding for most of his life from his little brother? Dad knew, but then there'd been no way around that. At least not when you're five years old and wake up crying from the migraines and shit starts moving with no assistance from human hands. He finished the water and sat the cup on the bedside table, his eyes drooping.   
  
"Sam...my head hurts you think they have any Tylenol in this place?" He slid back against the sheets and bit his lip. He'd learned a long time ago that he had to let it out if it'd been neglected and for ten years, he'd been doing exactly that---neglecting it. Pushing it back as far as he could and using the charm to hold it at bay.  
  
"I'm starting to think Tylenol is evil Dean, but I'll go and ask alright? Just stay in bed the doctor said something about wanting a colleague to look over your CAT scans, but I'm not sure if he wanted to talk to you."   
  
Sam headed out to look for a nurse and Dean sighed. This was exactly why he hated fucking hospitals. Tossing back the sheets he slipped from the bed and carefully made his way to the bathroom, using the wall as support. His legs felt like jelly beneath him and this damn gown was embarrassing. Well at least they hadn't taken his underwear, he thought.   
  
Stepping into the bathroom he turned on the light and moved to the toilet. He sighed in relief as he emptied his bladder. Somethings could be considered small pleasures. He finished, flushed, and moved to the sink glancing at his reflection. No wonder Sam was worried he looked like shit warmed over. His skin was a ghastly shade of sickly pale and dark smudges circled his eyes.   
  
"Dude...you look like shit." He grumbled and quickly washed his hands. Sam would be back in a minute and the last thing he needed was Sam catching him out of bed. His brother could be an old mother hen sometimes.  
  
***  
  
Sam smiled down at the nurse as they walked back into Dean’s room a tiny paper cup of Tylenol in her hand. He’d offered to take it, but rules were rules the petite blonde had said with a vibrant smile. Sam had just laughed saying he knew a thing or two about rules. He stopped laughing when he saw the bed was empty and he frowned.   
  
"Damn it...Dean!!"  
  
The nurse tugged his arm, pointing to the bathroom and he glanced at the door. "I think he went in there."  
  
"Oh, I know, but I'm still going to kill him.” Sam nodded. “Because he doesn't listen."  
  
"Shit..." Dean mumbled, then put on his resigned face. Sam was going to want to kill his ass. Pushing open the door, he stepped out leaning heavily in the frame. "Hey, Sammy." He grinned. "See you found a nurse." He could feel the perspiration on his face and he knew he'd pushed it, he should have just pissed in the fucking jug, but he hated that.  
  
Sam crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing, the nurse though just smiled and walked over offering Dean her arm. "Come on. Just grab my arm Mr. Winchester and we'll get you back to bed and get these Tylenol down."  
  
Chuckling Sam muttered. "Yeah Mr. Winchester you better lay down old guy. You might break a hip."  
  
Dean growled in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes at Sam's smug grin. "Hey, sick man here, dude. You could try being nice instead of acting like a fuckwit." He took the nurse’s arm and smiled at her. "Sorry about the language ma'am, but my brother brings out the worst in me."  
  
The nurse giggled and blushed as Sam rolled his eyes. He walked over grabbing Dean’s arm. "You get his water…I'll get him in the bed. He weighs a ton sometimes." He leaned over whispering softly in the nurse’s ear. "He goes through donut crazes where I can't get him to put down the jelly and cream filled ones. I'm telling you…God the gut he gets…it's scary. Loves the donuts more than he loves a date---I'm serious."   
  
Giggling again the nurse went to get the water and Sam hefted Dean up into bed, yanking the blanket up, and mouthing 'Don't flirt with the NURSES'. Dean grunted and folded his arms over his chest.  
  
"I wasn't flirting..." he hissed beneath his breath, "...the nurse was helping me to the bed unlike you who treats me like a sack of potatoes."  
  
Sam growled his voice a low whisper full of piss and vinegar. "You have no idea how I treat you or what you put me through so quit sulking and take your damn Tylenol." The nurse returned flashing Dean a million-watt smile and held out the water. Sam took it instead and the shoved the cup and the pills towards Dean. "Now be a good boy and take your damn pills before you give me a headache---jerk."   
  
Sighing in frustration, Dean accepted the Tylenol and tossed it back. "You happy now?" He grunted his headache flaring with effort. "Look Sammy why can't I just leave. I'm all better and I hate these fucking hospital gowns."  
  
The nurse took that as her cue and exited with a smile as fast as possible.   
  
"Blood tests Dean and then you can run back to your car, your guns and cheap motels with crappy water pressure---I promise." Sam muttered and dropped back into the chair that had been his haven for the last few hours. "It's not like I want to be here either."  
  
Lying back against the pillows Dean sighed, turning his back to Sam. "Look, dude...Sam...I'm sorry about all this. I didn't mean to get possessed, I didn't mean to scare the fuck out of you, and---well I'm just sorry."   
  
He sighed, his headache flaring behind his eyes as he closed them. He tightened his grip on his pillow and tried to push back all the emotion that that rose and stuck in his throat. As he did the pain flared in a starburst of white light against the back of his eyelids. He swallowed hard burrowing his face in the worn cotton as a tiny trickle of blood trailed down from his nose to his lower lip staining the white pillowcase.   
  
"Don't be mad, please?"  
  
Sam pressed his hand over his heart. "Did my big brother just say the word please to me?"  
  
"Yeah, he did." Dean wiped his face with the back of his hand and was thankful his back was to Sam. "Don't get used to it daddy long legs."  
  
"Okay, grandpa I won't be mad, but only because you said please." Sam tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair glanced at the door, and then at Dean's back frowning. Some of the worry seeped back into his face, but Dean couldn't see it. Dean didn't look any better, Sam thought, and the only difference was he was awake now. "The Tylenol will kick in and you'll feel a little better. Then maybe the blood tests will be done and we can go."   
  
"Yeah, sounds like a plan." Dean sighed as he curled up tighter beneath the blankets, using a corner of the sheet to wipe his face clean. "You need to go back to the motel Sammy. Get some sleep. I'll be fine---I swear."  
  
"Dude, I'm not leaving you period, exclamation point, exclamation point. So just stop that shit right there. I'm staying until you can go, I'm helping you out of here and then I'm driving---no arguments---back to our motel and we'll stay one more night and we are leaving this town in the dust by the next morning."  
  
Dean grinned as his eyes began to droop, the Tylenol kicking in. "At a boy, Sammy..." he murmured softly as he slipped into sleep.  
  
***  
  
It was dawn, the sun rising and tinting the sky with pastel, when Doctor Connelly appeared in Dean’s room. He studied the two brothers and smiled. It was rare in this day and age sometimes to see the type of bond these two young men shared and at the same time, he was saddened by the fact that all they had were one another it seemed.  
  
When he tapped Sam's arm he opened his eyes and yawned. He must have drifted back off, Sam thought, and he allowed Connelly to lead him into the hall so Dean could continue sleeping. Connelly explained that though his friend had studied Dean’s CAT scan neither of them could explain the electrical activity. His colleague had suggested keeping Dean a few more days and possibly doing a few more tests, but he’d decided against it.  
  
There in that hall Connelly made his final decision clearing them to go home and Sam breathed a sigh of relief, thanking him. They shook hands and Connelly watched as Sam walked away. Somewhere deep inside he had the feeling that he’d done the right thing. Connelly knew despite logic, despite science, that somehow there was something special about these two brothers.  
  
***  
  
Back inside the room, Sam leaned over shaking Dean's shoulder. "Wake up Dean we can go."  
  
Rubbing his face in the pillow, Dean groaned and burrowed deeper into the blankets. "Go away..." his muffled words drifted up from beneath the blankets.  
  
"Dean seriously man do you want to stay in the crispy white and smelling of alcohol hospital? Because I'll leave you here if you don't get up." Sam griped, yanking at the covers. He pulled and tugged them until he got them loose and yanked them down and off. "Ah…damn it." He dropped the blankets and covered his eyes, when he was greeted with a shot of Dean’s underwear clad ass. "Sometimes I need to be paid to deal with you. Get up Dean!"  
  
Dean rolled over, yawning loudly. "Sam...you ever had Tylenol with codeine in it. Shit is like getting hit over the head with a sledge hammer." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and his gaze settled on the pillow where his head had been resting seconds before. "You got my clothes dude? Cause got to tell you ain't leaving without my pants." He glanced over his shoulder to see where Sam was then grabbed the pillow flipping it over and hiding the bloodstain on it. He yawned and stretched to hide the sudden movement just in case Sam had turned around.  
  
"Yeah, they brought them up all nice and clean. Who knew they had laundry services---huh? Well, I sure as hell didn't. Here let’s get the hell out of this place my nose is starting to burn with the air conditioning tingle." Sam handed Dean’s clothes over and slipped on his jacket. He really looked at Dean’s jacket for the first time since setting it down and made a sour face. "Dean?"  
  
Carefully Dean stood testing his legs and then pulled on his jeans, shimmying them up his hips. "What?" He glanced over at Sam frowning as he pulled the gown off and shook out his tee shirt.  
  
"I think I might of hurt your jacket a little bit." Sam held it out and coughed. "Scratches and stuff. But you can barely see them."   
  
Dean turned as he pulled his tee shirt over his head and raised one eyebrow. "Scruffed my leather---huh?" His lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile. "Guess I'll have to kick your ass when we get outside." He yanked his shirt down and sat down on the bed, pulling on his socks.  
  
Sam crossed his arms, Dean's jacket still in his hands. "I didn't do it on purpose. I was kind of stressed out at the time." He eyed the jacket, then tried to rub out the worst of the scratches. He hoped against hope it would work. He really didn't want to get into a fight with Dean because he happened to be worried that he’d scuffed Princess’ leather.  
  
"Hey..." Dean was suddenly across the room and there in front of Sam, his hand reaching out to settle over his brother's, "...it's okay Sammy. I was just giving you shit." He ducked his head trying to catch Sam's eyes that were focused on the leather.  
  
Sam sighed and stopped rubbing. "I really didn't mean to man. I'm sorry you just...I don't know how to..." He gave up then handing the jacket over. "Let's go alright? I'm tired of this place."  
  
"Me too Sammy-boy...me, too." Dean patted Sam's back as they headed for the door, side by side.  
  
~Finis~


End file.
